Rainy Mondays
by Nymphadora1506
Summary: Draco wakes up on a bleary Monday morning, ready for an unpleasant day ahead. In the end, several accidents and one misunderstanding later, it turns out quite all right really. Rated T just to be safe.


_Disclaimer: I don't own the boys or anything else. Except my rainy Monday monster! I would be happy to trade though._

**Rainy Mondays**

As soon as he woke, Draco knew that something was wrong. He opened his eyes slowly and shivered. Even though there was no way of knowing for certain, he knew that it had been raining. The temperature had dropped quite low and to Draco's misery, he found that he was lying on his bed without the shelter of his bedclothes. Swallowing back an unpleasant sore lump in his throat, he picked his sheets from the floor. He'd probably been thrashing about in his sleep, nightmares getting the better of him yet again. Scowling to himself in the early lights of dawn, he pulled his blankets over his head and tried to go back to sleep. However he simply couldn't drift into slumber anymore. His brain registered the sounds of Blaise and Nott's snores a bit too sharply than he would have liked and it seemed that something prickly was stuck in his throat.

Annoyed but determined, Draco cleared his throat but winced. It was as uncomfortable as before, if not more. He tried closing his eyes again, but opened them wide as he remembered with a jolt that it was Monday. _Of course._

Sighing, he gave up. He should have known. Of course, he wouldn't be able to go to sleep again. It was a rainy Monday and all through his eighteen years of subsistence if there was one thing he'd learnt, it was the pattern of the day on rainy Mondays. Nothing good happens on a rainy Monday, while nothing too bad happens either. Things get unpleasant enough to keep you in a fairly bad mood though not bad enough to start angry quarrels with your friends. For example, there would always be at least one unnecessary test sprung on them on a rainy Monday. The test wouldn't really affect their grades but one would have to go through the ordeal of actually having to give the test and the resultant harsh words from the teacher. And it was almost always a rainy Monday when he would discover a pimple on his face or develop a cough. He wasn't likely to get badly injured on a rainy Monday but it guaranteed numerous paper cuts and stubbed toes.

Draco grimaced. Even last year, he had enough occasions to confirm his theory. A rainy Monday morning meant no Voldemort in the house but there were always Aunt Bella's mad plans and experiments. No major death reports but Rita Skeeter's writing. No forceful torture but arranging a peacock or two for Nagini.

Yes in the course of eighteen years of his life, he'd discovered that rainy Mondays meant one thing only: unpleasant boredom.

Unable to stay in bed anymore with that god-awful sore throat, Draco rose from his bed and after a tiny dose of Pepper-Up potion, proceeded towards the showers, bracing himself for the tiring day ahead. He showered quickly for something inside his head told him that the hot water might just run out. He tried to remember if he'd left some homework unfinished for that was a common occurrence on rainy Mondays. He found that he'd done everything. Not surprising really, considering the fact that ever since he'd returned to Hogwarts after the War, all his focus had shifted to scoring well in his NEWTs.

He could say the same for every other eighth year student. Only a fair few had returned and so far every one of them had remained subdued and sincere to their academic duties. Maybe that was their way of dealing with the War. Draco would have thought that the 'other side' had nothing to be mopey about but soon realised how wrong he was. The War had had adverse effects on both sides and even Potter, who was more of a celebrity now than he ever was before, seemed pretty down in the dumps these days.

Draco stopped his train of thought as soon as it reached station 'Potter' and concentrated on packing his school bag. Thoroughly experienced with the ways of rainy Mondays, he knew that forgetting something crucial to class was another classic phenomenon to take place on such days. After double checking that his transfiguration homework was tucked in his bag, he proceeded towards the common room, intent on avoiding Pansy if he could help it. Pansy Parkinson was someone to avoid on a rainy Monday for these were cruel to girls too. After being subjected to fits of rage from the Slytherin girl on several such circumstances, he'd learnt that simply staying away from her was the best thing to do.

Sure enough, he found her curled up in a squashy armchair, eyes half-closed and hands clutched over her stomach. He felt sorry for her but knew better than to try and help. So he slipped away quietly before she could notice.

~o0o~

Draco ate his breakfast alone in one corner of the Slytherin table. The Great Hall was mostly empty for it was rather early and only few students had come down for breakfast. The ceiling was a dull grey, rain pouring down in a steady rhythm, the kind which lasted all day at the exact same pace. It wasn't as if he hated rain, in fact, he loved it. He could watch it for hours and got a secret pleasure by drenching himself in it. Not that anyone knew that—he would admit it the day he decided to admit that he was actually a romantic poet. No, it was one thing he treasured alone and always did in the isolation and safety of Malfoy Manor. Besides, the Monday that was attached to the rain made it far less appealing than regular rain.

He chewed thoughtfully on his toast that seemed a little burnt—perhaps the house-elves saved the good stuff for later—and stared absently around. His eyes travelled to the Gryffindor table which was empty except for a few girls he didn't know. A faint frown was beginning to form on his head depicting the twinge of annoyance that had just passed his being, when he saw Granger and Weasley enter the Great Hall. Granger looked cross, her hair frizzier than usual while Weasley had a confused look on his face. They were shortly followed by Potter whose shoulders were slumped and eyebrows were knit together. Draco grinned a little. Potter was shorter than both his friends and his grumpy face wasn't really that intimidating to look at. In fact it was rather—

Draco looked away, horrified. What the hell was he just about to think? He shook his head and told himself to get a grip. It was just the rainy Monday that was doing things to his brains. He watched the golden trio from the corner of his eye as they sat down, trying to keep himself from focussing on Potter. However he couldn't stifle a loud snigger that escaped his lips as Potter stubbed his toe on the table while trying to sit. Their eyes met for a second before Draco got up and left the table, a little alarmed that Potter had heard his laugh all the way from the Gryffindor table. However, one thing made him smirk to himself as he headed for his first class.

Apparently rainy Mondays were just as boringly cruel to the boy-who-lived.

~o0o~

"I swear I did it!" Potter pleaded, looking slightly desperate as he emptied the entire contents of his bag on his table.

Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed as she glared in his direction.

"I'm sure Mr Potter, that I would like to hear the delightful tale of how your homework managed to vanish into thin air by itself, but I'm afraid we're on a tight schedule today," her words were sharp.

"But I'm sure I—" Potter began.

"Enough Potter!" McGonagall said impatiently and Draco realised that even professors suffered on rainy Mondays. "You're the only one who has failed to hand in their homework today. These aren't OWLs anymore! Every single thing that I ask you to do is absolutely essential for your preparation. Twenty points from Gryffindor and you will stay behind after class to receive extra homework."

Potter looked aghast. Draco felt sorry for him but quickly reminded himself that he was not to think of Harry Potter. He was not in denial. He had accepted his feelings towards Potter at the very end of seventh year when Potter had saved his life. However he was perfectly sure that they would never be reciprocated and trying not to think of him was all he could do to keep himself from hurting. Despite his efforts he found himself observing Potter more than he would like. And it disturbed him thoroughly every time Potter noticed it.

"...where the hell did it disappear?" Potter was whispering to Weasley.

"Dunno mate, maybe Crookshanks ate it," Weasley offered.

Potter groaned and buried his head in his hands, "And to think that _everyone _else remembered theirs..."

Draco smirked. What an idiot. Forgetting your homework on rainy Mondays was always something that happened to just one person in the whole class. He wished he could warn Potter. But he could only just stare, without saying a single word. Take in the untidy black hair and slumped shoulders for what seemed like the hundredth time. He wanted to run his hands through the messy hair and lecture him on his carelessness. He wanted to laugh at his misery but receive a playful shove in return instead of a hostile glare which he would probably receive if he did dare to laugh. He wanted to put his arms around his bony shoulders and tell him to quit complaining and that it would be okay.

His desires were natural and also probably something one didn't want from their boyfriend. He took a deep breath and looked outside. The sight of rain soothed his nerves and he turned back, giving his full attention to McGonagall this time.

By the end of the class Draco was quite satisfied with himself on avoiding any kind of humiliating accident that one was prone to on these Mondays. He even allowed himself a glance at Potter who was sulking on his desk, waiting for McGonagall to give him extra work. Unfortunately for him though, Potter's eyes suddenly wavered towards his and Draco instinctively looked past him at a window on the other side of the class, hoping the flush on his cheeks wouldn't show. He stared at the window for a while before giving a faint sigh and arranging his features into a stony expression and looking away. It seemed that he'd fooled Potter though he couldn't risk checking.

Relieved somewhat, he started moving towards the door when he heard Weasley.

"What're you looking at?"

"Malfoy's acting weird..."

Draco's breath caught.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, he seems—"

But what exactly he seemed like, Draco never got to know because at that moment McGonagall approached Potter with a stack of books and parchment. Potter groaned while Draco sauntered out of the class, mixed feelings bubbling up in his chest.

~o0o~

It continued raining all through lunchtime and Draco decided that he wasn't that hungry. The next few classes after Transfiguration were as dull and boring as ever. As it turned out, the rainy Monday monster hadn't really spared Draco and he had to bear through a series of torments. He couldn't answer when professor Vector asked him the meaning of transfigurable numerology, he didn't get the correct answer to a problem even after an especially lengthy and complicated procedure and stupid Longbottom turned his hair purple in an attempt of simply disarming his partner. For his life, Draco couldn't fathom _how _someone could _possibly _do that.

Had it been before the War, Draco would have hexed his bits off but this year he was under watch. A single wrong move and he would get locked up in Azkaban with his father. So he merely counted to ten in his head, cast his most disdainful sneer at Longbottom and let it go.

Yet he was more annoyed than ever at the helpless state he was in. He no longer had Crabbe and Goyle with him, who would do anything for him if he asked. The only Slytherins in his year were Pansy, Greengrass, Nott and Zabini who were all under scrutiny, just like him and had no intention of creating any trouble unless they wanted expulsion. Although their punishment would be far tamer than his.

Sighing, he looked out of a high window. The sixth floor corridor he was standing in was empty and he let his guard down. He pushed back his feelings of anger and resentment, of not being able to hex people's pants off, of keeping his mouth under control at all times. Instead he focussed on the steadily pouring rain and tried to remember the times when he'd stood under it, savouring the feeling of the light droplets hitting his skin. It had been years since he'd stood under a shower. He remembered the lawn of his home, the damp smell of the earth...

A light spray hit his eyelids when he realised that he'd been leaning out of the window. He leaned over slightly further, offering his cheek to the pouring drops. It relaxed him, helped him forget. He wondered why he didn't get wet more often. Instantly, he got the answer when he looked down and saw a few students hanging around. He pulled back immediately, his senses coming back to him. Thank God they hadn't seen him. What the hell was he thinking—

He fully realised how much he hated rainy Mondays when he turned and saw Harry bloody Potter standing a few feet away from him, looking pale and flabbergasted.

Shock and humiliation choked Draco's senses for a moment, but then he recovered.

"Can I help you?" he spat at Potter, trying to look irritated.

Potter blinked stupidly and swallowed. "What're you doing?" he asked bluntly. Draco wondered how Potter could just ask him that directly.

"Yeah, like I'm really going to tell _you_, considering how this is entirely your business." He cursed himself for not being able to come up with something new.

A flicker of anger passed through Potter's features as he seemed to get over his initial shock of seeing Draco act like the lead female of a romance novel. He crossed his arms. He was looking a little wary though, for some reason as he spoke his next few words carefully.

"Well, you were not...it seemed...are you, you know?"

Draco merely stared at him for a while. He would have smiled had he not been feeling angry and embarrassed. He began to edge away from Potter because he knew he couldn't risk that happening.

"Your coherency skills are scintillating, did you know? But I don't fancy spending the rest of lunch trying to decipher the garbage that comes out of your mouth. I'm off." He started walking away, eager to flee.

He just heard a faint "Malfoy, are you okay?" before he fled.

Trust rainy Mondays to make Potter think he was barmy.

~o0o~

It was Slughorn who finally sprung the test.

Draco didn't even bother to hide his distaste as he brought his hand up to his forehead. Really, this was the only thing left. A stupid test from the stupidest teacher in Hogwarts. He liked Potions and he would have had no problem had it been Snape instead of Slughorn. Knowing him, he would probably give them something boring and useless to brew and coo over Potter. Which, in spite of him liking Potter, was rather unbearable to look at. Even Potter's friends got annoyed with it; he could hardly be blamed.

His suspicions were confirmed when Slughorn asked them to brew an Itching Solution, without any references. He groaned along with most others. What use was that? Moreover, he didn't know how to make it. Why would he? Everyone knew that it would never come up in their NEWTs.

Somewhere behind him he heard Potter's voice complaining, though he couldn't hear what he was saying, followed by Granger's bossy tone. Granger was probably the only one who could actually make that piece of crap.

Resigned, he moved towards the ingredients cupboards, hoping to copy everything from Blaise, who like him looked frustrated. Slughorn might offer him help and that was all Draco could rely on. All he wanted was to get out of the classroom. He was too tired to even try to make the potion. He wondered vaguely what Potter was doing. He would have liked to see Potter freak out on his potion but unfortunately he was sitting behind Draco and Draco was not too keen on getting caught one more time today. The rainy Monday had already caused him much aggravation for a day.

"God, this is useless," grumbled Blaise beside him.

"Ask Slughorn for some hints, why don't you?" Draco asked him in a low voice.

"He won't help, that slime ball." Blaise looked annoyed. "Pansy knows how to make it," he added.

Both of them looked at Pansy who was right in front of them, looking as though she would breathe fire at any moment. Her shoulders seemed to be shaking with rage as she furiously chopped on something. When Nott made the fatal mistake of accidentally knocking her elbow, she turned on him and started swearing hotly, brandishing her knife at him. Nott was finally reduced to a cowering mess at the very edge of the bench they were sharing.

Draco and Blaise looked at each other before Pansy could sense their gazes on her.

"You ask her..." mumbled Draco while Blaise clucked impatiently and started slicing a random item on the table.

By the end of the period, everyone in the class seemed looked as though they would soon fall into pieces. Draco himself was satisfied though—finally the horrible day would be over. His potion was a disaster—it hadn't blown up, no, that would have been much too exciting for a dull rainy Monday; it had instead turned into a semi-solid gunk that was sticking to his cauldron and he had to waste fifteen whole minutes trying to scoop it into a vial for submission. In the process he had burned his fingers on the hot cauldron that he'd forgotten to cast a cooling charm on. Despite the low temperature he was sweating and there was dull throbbing sensation in his temples. The only thing that cheered him a little was that everyone, except Granger was pretty much in the same condition.

After handing in his 'potion', he walked out as quickly as possible. On his way he passed Potter and Weasley who were being scolded by Granger for their poor performances.

"...you didn't let us look at yours, how were we supposed to—" Potter interrupted her only to be interrupted himself.

"Rubbish! Had you concentrated on your potion instead of staring at _Malfoy_—"

"Shut up Hermione!" Potter's face blanched as he spotted Draco close to them. Draco scowled at him and walked ahead of them. He could now feel all three of them staring at him.

"Uh oh"

"It's okay. And I wasn't staring. He's just—"

"Acting weird today? We heard you, Harry..."

Their voices faded as Draco reached up the stone steps leading out of the dungeons. He didn't want to return to his common room. He didn't know what he wanted to do. His headache was increasing, along with his sense of gloom. He didn't really know why he was feeling so miserable, maybe because of his injured fingers or because Potter thought that he was a lunatic. Either way, he wanted to get away from everyone. He wanted to go back home and drench himself in the rain in their gardens. As soon as he thought that, an aching wave of nostalgia washed over him as he began to run.

~o0o~

_Rainy Monday monster, I surrender._

Draco's shoulders slumped as he dragged his feet over the deserted sixth floor corridor once again. He felt dejected and tired and restless all at once. He moodily reflected on the power of mundane mishaps, how they could shrink a person into such an agitated state of mind. And the worst part was how silly the reasons seemed to be.

_I can't get wet in the rain because there are people watching._

It was beyond silly.

After checking every entrance to open air and finding the places packed with stupid people, Draco finally concluded that there was no way he was getting wet. He could cast an umbrella charm over himself and walk into a secluded corner in the grounds, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to _walk _into the rain, feeling it soak him harder as he moved more and more under the open sky, just like how he used to do in the manor. He didn't want to involve magic just this once. However, it was not going to happen as he simply couldn't bear to do it with anybody watching. He hadn't even been able to do it in front of his own mother.

Without him knowing, his feet had carried him to the sixth floor. Maybe it was because the corridors were mostly empty as construction work was not quite complete here. Draco often found himself returning to this place. It almost always guaranteed him solitude, with the exception of today when Potter had appeared out of nowhere.

He frowned at the thought of Potter. How come he always ended up thinking of that scruffy haired git?

Suddenly he stopped walking as he spotted something. There was a large broken window on the wall in front of him. Its edges must have blasted away during the battle. He slowly moved towards the window and peered outside, immediately liking what he saw. There was a ledge broad enough for him to stand over safely, if he climbed out. Furthermore, it was located at a corner along with a temporary platform right underneath for construction workers to stand on, which almost completely blocked the view from the ground.

Draco's heart already felt lighter than before as he kept aside his bag and shrugged out of his cloak. He hooked one leg on the sill, ready to climb out. He put his palms flat against the sill and looked down. He had never really feared heights, so it was not a problem at all. There was a small smile playing at his lips when he started to hoist himself up.

Shock must have kept him from yelling as a pair of arms grabbed him around his waist and dragged him forcefully backward until he almost toppled over on the floor. The person grabbing him must have been strong for they managed to keep him standing.

Without really having to look, Draco thought he knew who it was.

The pair of arms clutched him harder, almost painfully.

"You daft moron!"

Draco's shock hadn't worn off, so he kept quiet.

"What were you _thinking? _After _all—_after _everything_!" Potter's voice broke on 'everything'.

He didn't know what was going on but something about Potter's tone made his heart clench with fear. Had he unknowingly done something stupid? Was he not allowed to get wet?

"I—Potter, what're you—" he started panicking.

"Shut up! Just shut your trap! I can't believe you were _actually _going to do that! How could you?"

What? Of course, Potter had seen him during lunch. He knew about Draco's guilty pleasure. But, was it that bad? Why was Potter so upset? Maybe it was a hundred times worse than Draco actually realised. He knew it! He knew that it would lead to something like this. He cursed rainy Mondays from the very core of his being. Now because of him, Potter would be traumatised for the rest of his life, dwelling on Draco's lily-livered hobbies.

"I was—I thought it wasn't a big deal!" Draco wailed.

"Not a big deal! How could you even think that?" Potter's breath was hot on his neck—had he not been so distressed, he would have blushed at the proximity. At any rate, he was glad. If Potter threw such a big fit on just a harmless act such as getting wet in the rain, who knew how he would react to Draco blushing. "Think of your mother! Why did you even come back if you were this hopeless?"

Draco frowned, puzzled at his last sentence. Now why would Potter say such a thing? His panic began to fade and for the first time, he tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Now that he thought about it, it had to be some sort of misunderstanding, because no one would flip out this badly over such a trivial thing. So Potter must not have known about the getting wet part. But then—

His eyes reached the broken window and finally, realization dawned on him.

"Potter, you prat!" he tried to turn his head and wriggle free of his grasp, "I wasn't trying to off myself!"

The hands around him loosened as a soft "Eh?" slipped Potter's lips.

"You heard me!"

"But, but," Potter finally let go of him and Draco immediately turned to face him. He noticed that the green eyes looked a little too moist than usual. "But, what were you climbing the window for?"

"I—" Draco didn't quite know how to put his real intentions into words so that they wouldn't sound stupid. "Never mind that. Point is, I wasn't trying to do anything of that sort! Why would I? I'm not that messed up!"

Potter simply gaped at him for a while, a hint of suspicion lingering in his eyes.

"But, what about earlier? I mean, I saw you at lunch too."

"What about it? Can't a person look out of a bloody window? Merlin, Potter!" Draco was slowly beginning to feel a strange feeling of glee spreading through his body as the entire situation was gradually etching into his head. He wasn't about to let that show, though. Not yet.

Potter merely looked confused and wary.

"Look," Draco began, finally giving in, "if you must know, I just wanted to, well, I wanted to get wet. In the rain. And I couldn't do it with people watching. There, now you know and you can take the mickey out of me for the rest of my life! But, that's it. That's what I was doing, okay?" He waited to see Potter's reaction.

He was silent for a moment. Then he looked at the window and back at Draco again. "Oh."

"Yeah." Draco was pleased to see a slow flush creeping up on Potter's neck. He raised one hand up to his head and brushed through his already messed up hair. Now that Draco noticed he seemed a little breathless and looked increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed. He swallowed nervously and looked around, as though he didn't know what else to do.

He was making Draco uncomfortable too and perhaps he noticed that because he muttered, "Um, sorry, I guess."

"How did you find me?" Draco shot at him, ignoring the apology. "Were you stalking me again?"

Potter looked horrified, "Of course not!" Draco looked unconvinced. "Well, maybe..." His cheeks were reddening now.

"I don't blame you. It's natural to find it hard to stop obsessing over me," Draco felt lightheaded. He'd gone months keeping his mouth shut, always cautious. And now Potter had given him a chance to finally act like the Draco Malfoy he actually was, if only for a few minutes.

"I'm not obsessing over you, you arrogant git!" Potter said, hotly. His embarrassment was still prominent on his face though, "You were acting weird all day; it's kind of hard not to notice! And you were—" he stopped for a moment, "I don't know...looking at the rain and making weird faces..." His words trailed away and he took a deep breath. "When I saw you lean over the window at lunch, it just struck me, that you might...well, oh snuff it! I was worried, alright? I don't want you to die." Potter stopped finally, looking more discomfited than ever.

The last two sentences were spoken with such a genuine force that Draco was taken aback. A tiny part of him yearned to simply grab Potter and hold him tight against his chest. For the first time since he'd returned to Hogwarts, Draco actually felt his worth here. All these weeks everyone had looked at him like they wanted him to disappear and he had grown to accept it as well. Or he'd thought he had.

He opened his mouth to say something appropriate but all that came out was, "Touching, that."

Potter looked at him, disbelief etched on his face and Draco thought that he had ruined it all. Of course, he didn't know what the appropriate thing to say was. He always spoke like this. He wished that Potter would understand that. He wished he would understand how touched Draco actually was. He'd never wished anything more strongly.

Potter rolled his eyes and gave his head a light shake, looking fed-up. "You want to get wet, right?"

Draco thought that his heart had swelled to the size of a water-melon. At long last Potter understood. He didn't know how or why. Maybe it was just his expression or something else. But he understood. Mutely, Draco nodded.

"C'mon then," he said and started walking away.

Draco collected his bag and cloak quickly and followed him without another word, his lips automatically curving into a wide grin.

"You really weren't going to jump?" Potter asked him softly, without looking back.

"No. Plus, it's a rainy Monday. I would have probably landed on Hagrid or something."

Potter's shoulders seemed to sag as he gave an audible sigh. "I'm not even going to ask, Malfoy."

~o0o~

Draco looked at the arched doorway, his mouth open. Rain continued pouring down over the grounds in the same steady pace of the morning. The afternoon sky rumbled with distant thunder, looking grey and sodden, just the way he liked it. He remembered his house once again, watching the rain with suppressed delight, waiting for his parents to leave before he snuck out on the grass, barefoot and soaked himself in the downpour. The grounds looked green and fresh and deserted, which made him turn and face Potter.

"How come this place is empty?" He asked him curiously.

"It's not," said Potter, who was now looking faintly amused, all his earlier embarrassment having vanished. "It's just a magical barrier. We can't see beyond it and people outside the barrier can't see us. I think it's some kind of a hiding place," he added thoughtfully.

"How did you find it?" Draco questioned as soon as Potter finished.

Potter gave him a smug look. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

Draco scowled but didn't push him farther. Instead he began to remove his shoes and socks.

Potter hesitated before saying, "Um, so I'll be going then..."

"Really? I don't mind you staying," said Draco a little absently as he started moving towards the doorway before Potter could reply. His thoughts carried him away from the present as he put his first step on the damp grass, elated at the feeling of the blades of grass poking out from between his toes. The rain hit him with a soft force and he closed his eyes and felt it slowly beginning to seep through his clothes. His hair was gradually becoming limp and sticking to his scalp. The droplets hit his face and ran down his cheeks before finally dropping off his pointed chin. The smell of damp earth was faint as it had rained for a long time, but it was there nevertheless. He took a deep breath of pure contentment and smiled.

"I take it you're satisfied."

Draco's eyes sprung open in shock before he remembered that it was just Potter. He turned to look at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smile on his lips. Without thinking, Draco ran back and grabbed him by his arm. Potter had barely registered the action before he was dragged into the rain.

"Malfoy!"

"Shut up Potter," Draco advised, as he let go of him. "I'm doing you a favour. I like it for a reason—it actually feels good."

Potter, surprisingly, listened to him and stared ahead. His cloak was still on and it was hanging on him heavily, with the weight of the water but he didn't seem to notice. The rain did not flatten his hair like Draco's. The dark locks still stuck up on their ends, resisting the force of water. Potter's glasses slowly got covered with droplets and he removed them, blinking as his unfocussed eyes looked around, without seeing much, Draco guessed. He looked different without his glasses, unprotected almost.

"Can't see a thing," he muttered, looking helplessly at Draco.

"Quit complaining," he replied.

Potter made to shove him but missed.

~o0o~

Draco could almost see the rainy Monday monster trying its best to push its way out of a temporary force that had confined it for a while. It was finally successful as Draco tripped over his own cloak and barely managed to stop himself from falling flat on his face. Three Ravenclaw first years sniggered.

He sighed and headed for the dungeons, not bothered.

He tried his best not to smile to himself but the thought of Potter drenched and wide eyed brought one automatically to his face. "See you around then," he had told Draco before leaving for the marble staircase, "You won't kill yourself, will you?" Draco had snorted and fired a half-hearted "You wish, Potter."

The smile wouldn't leave his face. As soon as he entered the common room, Pansy rounded on him and continued yelling until she was hoarse, ("What're you so happy about?") while Nott and Blaise watched with interest.

Yes, the monster was definitely back with revenge in its heart. Draco found that he didn't really mind all that much.

~Fin~

**A/N: No the idea didn't actually come to me on a rainy Monday, but I did encounter one in the process of writing this. It was completely unexpected and a little weird. **

**These are just my own thoughts about rainy Mondays, I don't really know if anyone can relate. **

**There's nothing else I have to say...oh yeah, Harry and Ginny have not gotten together after the end of the War, if anyone's wondering. Also, very few eighth year students have returned, so they all have classes together. That's all I think. And I was eager to have the boys snogging(I really love using this word )in the rain, but my rainy Monday monster was getting too upset. It can only endure so much, you see.**

**Thanks for reading and feel free to point out mistakes and stuff :)**


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